Alone
by Sehrezad
Summary: Written for the request of snarkysweetness in the Emma/August community at LJ. Sometime before 'The Stranger', Emma gives in and has sex with August. After the curse is broken she finds out she's pregnant. Too bad August is still a wooden man. Emma/August, obviously...


**Alone**

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

_Summary: Written for the request of snarkysweetness in the Emma/August community at LJ. Sometime before 'The Stranger', Emma gives in and has sex with August. After the curse is broken she finds out she's pregnant. Too bad August is still a wooden man._

_I hope it's not too OOC for Emma. She cries an awfully lot in here. Let's blame it on the hormones._

* * *

The first time she'd gone to see him, she had no idea what to expect. She had actually seen him turn into wood but after everything that'd just happened, she desperately wanted to believe that it had not happened.

When she first saw him, she began to laugh because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. It was just too much. She'd just slain a dragon then brought Henry back to life for God's sakes. She was still reeling from the emotional turmoil of meeting her parents for the first time and learning the whole truth about the reasons behind their abandoning her… and then there was August lying as wooden puppet… Pinocchio. At that moment she really couldn't do anything but burst out in hysterical laughter.

Then suddenly the world around her started to spin and she felt sick because she knew that everything that was happening around her was for real. The man had indeed turned into wood. She ran out of the room and stumbled into the street just in time to empty her stomach on the sidewalk.

The second time she went to visit him it was because she was pissed – and quite frankly freaked out – and it was just fair to vent to the person responsible for it.

It came pouring out then and she didn't keep anything back. She told him how stupid she felt because, in all honesty, she knew that going out for a drink, just the two of them, was a bad idea. She accepted his invitation anyway. She also knew that every single glass after the second one was an even worse idea. But she downed them all the same.

She told him how she wished she's had more sense that night… after all it wasn't the first time that somebody had tried to get her drunk just because he wanted to get laid.

She should have known better.

She told him what a bastard she thought he was because he knew perfectly well that she wouldn't say no. She told him how she remembered their way up to his room, how a voice in her head kept screaming to turn around and go away because nothing good would come out of her spending the night with him. But she kept on going, letting him lead the way.

She went because the mere thought of him wanting her made her feel giddy. Damn it was good to be desired. But wasn't it her desperate need for human contact and affection that had caused so much trouble the last time, too?

Her hand in his felt good, the look in his eyes filled her with warmness… and damn, the man just looked downright hot as he closed the door behind them and pushed her against it. She knew it was wrong but it felt so damn good.

The next day she woke with a pounding head and a deep feeling of regret. She should have known better. After all, all the drunken nights that had ended in yet another man's bed where she was looking for sincere affection but only found selfish need should have taught her not to believe a man who buys you alcohol.

By the time she reached the end of her ramblings, she wasn't angry only at him but she seriously hated herself, too. She was such a mess.

She was pregnant.

She didn't go back to him until after her first ultrasound exam. She thought she didn't want to see him again but after seeing her baby… their baby, she felt the need to go and visit him after all. For a long time she was only standing there leaning against the door with her back, just watching him. Then she began to talk…

She told him how she had managed to actually push the thought of being pregnant into the back of her mind. She went on with her life like nothing had happened. She'd got enough on her plate as it was without worrying about bringing another child into the world without a stable background.

She had a whole new life to adjust to with Henry coming to live with her and her parents desperately trying to make up for the lost years. And she hadn't even gotten to the part where her whole life turned into a fairy-tale in which she'd been given the part of the hero and a whole town looked to her for salvation.

So, yes, she actually did quite a good job not dealing with the being-pregnant part of her life.

Then she heard the heart beat of the baby that was growing inside her and she couldn't deny it any longer. She was carrying a child under her heart and the enormous responsibility of it terrified her. How could she do this all over again when she had failed the first time around? How could she raise a baby when she hardly felt suitable to take care of her eleven years old son?

How could she be a good mother when she was falling apart?

And during all of her desperate ramblings, she never failed to add just how much she hated him still.

She kept going back after that, though. She found her one-sided conversations with August strangely comforting and the world just made a little more sense after she'd left his room.

It became some sort of ritual for her. Go to work, end shift, go home, spend some time with your newly found family, put Henry into bed then sneak out to visit the man who had knocked you up then turned into wood.

Gepetto had never made any comment on her nocturnal visits but Emma knew that the old man knew, just as she knew that he had noticed her slowly growing baby bump. A mug of warm milk and some cookies mysteriously began to appear in August's room and one day when she mentioned to Snow in the diner that she'd started craving dark chocolate like nothing else, a plate of dark brownies waited for her at night… that and a key for the front door. Apparently Gepetto had enough of her picking the lock of the back door.

She hadn't talked to the old man, though, for another couple of days.

She hadn't gone to see August for a couple of nights by then and when she finally stepped into his room, her features were drawn with guilt and the first words that escaped her lips were, "I'm sorry."

For months she had hated him and hated herself for getting her into her current predicament and, a couple of days ago, she had realized that it was only him she had blamed for it. Yes, she was weak and emotionally exposed but he was the one who had taken advantage of that.

Only it wasn't the truth. Not the whole truth at least.

After thinking about the happenings of that night with a clear mind, she could remember that she was the one who kept touching him – a small pat on the shoulder here, a gentle brush of the hands there – and she certainly didn't feel shy about invading his personal space.

She could remember his half-hearted attempt of a warning that she'd had too much to drink but she was having too much of a good time to be concerned about that so she ordered another round for them.

She remembered his offer to walk her home then his suggestion for her to stay the night. He'd take the couch, he said. But by that time she'd been too far gone to be able to think straight. His eyes were beautiful, his face was so handsome and that damned smile of his just made her forget about her resolve. And he was offering his hand to her and she all but stumbled into his arms.

She remembered his weak protest as her mouth sought out his and she remembered how nice it felt to kiss him. They spent quite some time just making out on the street, in the entrance hall at Granny's (Ruby gave her a knowing wink), on the stairs and the corridor… against that door.

He was quite reluctant to take things any further.

She remembered telling him over and over again that it was all right.

She still told him that she hated him but she didn't blame him anymore.

She talked to Gepetto the next day and the joy of the old man made her cry. She thought about how perfect it would have been if the baby hadn't been the result of a one night stand… she thought about how perfect it would have been to have August with her. For the first time since she found out about the pregnancy, she was certain that she wanted it… the baby… August… a family. She thought about how thrilled Henry would be (that boy practically worshipped the man) and she cried even more.

She kept up her visits to August but she started to spend time with Gepetto, too. The old man was nothing but kind with her and his stories about a wooden puppet made her forget for a few moments that that same puppet didn't have any life in him anymore.

She told August about her doctor's appointments, how everything was going fine, how she had to change her whole wardrobe (of course, she blamed him for that). She practically beamed when she first felt the baby kick during one of her visits then she broke out in tears and repeated her mantra of how she just hated him.

And somewhere between telling him over and over again just how much she hated him, she realized that she had fallen in love with him.

Sometimes she felt like history repeating itself. It was being pregnant with Henry all over again. She told so to her mother, who was quick to remind her that she wasn't alone this time. She had her family to look after her, to take care of her. And what surprised her the most was that both her mother and her father kept reassuring her that August would come back. There must be a way to bring him back. Somehow she suspected that their endless optimism came from their conviction that it was what she wanted to hear.

They were right. She wanted to be told that everything would be all right. She wanted to be told that August really cared for her and that he'd come back to her. And she believed it.

She believed it because somewhere deep down she knew that if August hadn't turned back into a puppet, he would have been there with her every step of the way. Somewhere deep down she knew that he cared for her… maybe loved her. She knew because she remembered the look in his eyes that night… the look that rendered all her blame and alleged hatred pointless simply because it was so sincere in his affection towards her.

She missed that look.

She missed him.

One day, with only a week to go in her pregnancy, Emma woke up feeling miserable. At first she couldn't really tell why but that mattered little in the grand scheme of things. She'd been having false contractions all night so she felt satisfied when she was able to sleep two hours in a row. Lying in bed, she exhaled as the last contraction passed and she decided that she wouldn't upset herself by dwelling on the fact that she was feeling miserable. She had every right to feel miserable. This made her feel just a little bit better.

Then she wobbled out into the kitchen and it hit her in the face. She felt alone. Henry had run out to school early because there was a girl he wanted to walk to school. Snow and James were preparing for work chatting silently and moving around each other with familiar ease. And there she was, with a baby on the way and a man turned into a puppet.

She didn't feel better about feeling miserable anymore. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry… and the contractions just kept coming.

She tried to shake off the feeling of loneliness but it was in vain. She went to have breakfast at the diner and listened to Ruby happily babbling about her date with Archie the day before. It just made her feel more miserable. She tried to talk to Archie but the mere sight of him reminded her of her loneliness. She thought about taking a long walk along the beach but she felt uncomfortable and had to stop every few meters. She even went that far to go to the Sheriff's Station but she was promptly kicked out. She was on maternity leave after all.

By early afternoon she'd ended up at Gepetto's sitting in her usual spot in August's room.

This time she was sitting in silence, keeping her thoughts to herself. There was no point in giving voice to all the conflicting feelings she'd been experiencing in the last months and to all of which she'd already given voice in one form or another.

And anyway, she just wanted to rest, to have just a few hours of decent sleep – if her depressed mood hadn't been enough, those Braxton-Hicks contractions wouldn't leave her the hell alone. She wished he'd be there because at the moment she didn't want anything more than to be able to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep in his arms. She just wanted to feel his presence.

With some difficulty, she stood up and, walking up to the bed, she slowly lay down on her side next to August. At first she felt ridiculous lying next to a wooden puppet and let out a dry chuckle at how creepy that might look like but at least she felt less miserable than before. Putting an arm under her head and the other over August's that was lying on his chest, she slowly closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered in a hardly audible voice then smiled sadly. That was the only thing she hadn't told him in her endless tirades about her feelings. This one she had kept to herself… until now.

She allowed herself a moment to reflect on just how depressing (and pathetic) it was that the first time she'd been able to say those three words, it was addressed to a puppet. Some love life she'd got!

Even if she couldn't drift off into sleep because just like last night the false contractions prevented her from that and now even the two-hour-long slumber seemed unattainable, she felt somewhat better. At least she could rid her mind from any thoughts as she was swimming in blissful numbness between sleep and awareness.

It was really nice… until something brought her back to the land of awareness. At first she thought that another contraction hit her but she quickly realized that something was nudging her hand and with a yelp, she quickly pulled it away then she propped her head on her arm and looked at August's form with wide eyes. Something was happening to him – he was turning back into a real man, Emma knew.

Apprehension filled her at the strange sight of wood turning into flesh as she focused her attention on August's face. Tears filled her eyes as she waited with bated breath.

"Emma…" August breathed her name with dry throat as he blinked and a strangled sob escaped Emma's lips. She wanted nothing else to hold onto him, to hug him till the end of times but a sharp pain in her lower abdomen stopped her and she cried out in pain. "Emma?" Her name turned into a question on his lips while he was still trying to get his bearing as a real man.

"Oh shit… We have to go," Emma hissed, suddenly forgetting about the miracle she'd just witnessed. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah," he drawled and for the first time, he noticed that Emma was clutching her belly… her very large pregnant belly. His eyes widened as he looked into hers.

Emma gave him a weak smile turning on her back.

"Remember the night we had too much to drink?" she asked with a pained grimace and August nodded dumbfounded. "That's the result."

"Emma, I…"

"Don't," she warned him as the excruciating pain left her panting. "It's okay. Just help me get up."

"Is it time already?"

"No, damn it," she snapped as the pain slowly abated. God, that lasted long. "I just thought how hilarious it would be to play a joke on you."

"Stupid question… okay," August looked at her with quickly building panic and Emma would have taken pity on him if she hadn't been the one who had just gone into labor. It was hell of a way to come back to life, she had to admit. "What shall I do?"

"August!" she reached out to squeeze his hand. "Get me the hell up! We. Have. To. Go." She stressed every word of her last sentence hoping to get through to him.

Fortunately August seemed to have come to his senses and he quickly pulled her up from the bed and started with her towards the door. They'd just reached the stairs when she once again doubled over in pain and while she squeezed the life out of August's arm she was desperately clinging to, she fleetingly wondered when the hell she'd gone from having false contractions to going into labor.

They were halfway down the stairs when Gepetto appeared downstairs. Even through her pain she found his expression quite amusing.

"What happened?" he asked with a curious expression that quickly turned into disbelieving surprise as he took sight of August then genuine concern when he took in Emma's disheveled appearance.

"Hey," Emma started weakly though her labored breathing. "August woke up and I went into labor. And now we have to go."

Gepetto was by her side with such speed that would have put a young man to shame.

"Father," August gave him a little uncertain smile as the man took hold of Emma's arm.

"Son," that one little word of the man held so much love that August had to turn his attention from him.

"All right, guys," Emma spoke up when the men seemed to have frozen in their little wordless exchange. "I'd hate to break up the party but my water just broke."

"Are you sure?" August asked and Emma rolled her eyes exasperated. Shock or no shock she didn't really have the patience to wait for August while he caught up.

"Either that or I've just peed my pants," she let him know and sighed in relief when they finally began to move.

It turned out that what Emma had experienced as false contractions during the night and the following day weren't actually false… at some point they'd turned very real and not five hours after her water had broken a small screaming pink bundle was placed into Emma's awaiting arms.

She cried and laughed at the same time as she took in the wrinkled red features of her newborn.

"You can come here, you know," without taking her eyes off of the baby, she told August, who stepped back as soon as the baby was given to Emma. Slowly with unsure steps the man returned to his position he had occupied during the delivery and looked down at the pair. He didn't make any further move, though, to get closer to mother and daughter. Emma seemed to have registered his hesitation because she finally managed to tear her eyes away from her daughter. When she looked up at him, she could see that his eyes were glistening with tears.

"We've got a daughter," she beamed up at him which seemed to have broken the spell August had gotten under because he slowly sat back down on his chair and leant closer to see his daughter for the first time.

"I don't know what to say," his voice croaked. "I wish I had known."

"You couldn't have done anything – you were turning back into a puppet."

"I could have told you that you were not alone in this… that I hoped that that one night stand would turn out something more… At least you'd have known that."

"Well, after what had just happened – you being here… those tears in your eyes, I'm sure I'm not alone in this," Emma smiled at him. "And I think this definitely qualifies as something more," she pointed out indicating to their daughter and both of them chuckled.

"I guess I'm a lucky man," August chuckled and reached out to caress the baby's forehead. "What's her name?"

"Theresa. Theresa Swan Booth. If that's okay with you."

"Tess," August tried the sound of it and Emma repeated it, looking down at the baby.

Sometime later when both Emma and Tess had been cleaned, Emma was lying in bed smiling a watery smile at the sight in front of her. It was perfect – seeing August holding their baby girl with that proud smile that seemed to have settled permanently on his handsome features as he softly cooed to their baby. And just before a little crowd filed into the room and the scene became a huge mess of 'congratulations', various expressions of awe about the baby and a random 'I want one, too' from Snow, she let herself think about just how complete she felt at that moment.

**The End**

_Okay, the fluff factor had considerably risen by the end but I think we could still handle it, right? Thanks for reading!_


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